


The Mordhaus DVD Shelf

by Pearly_Pornography



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Arguing, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Past Abuse, post-doomstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 04:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10563705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: Seth finds out about Magnus' death, and also that no funeral is being held for him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is a morally questionable fic and i have no idea what side i lean towards, this does not reflect any of my beliefs, im just writing a thing

"He's _what?_ "

"Dead, Seth."

It wasn't like he didn't believe it. Pickles seemed so damn nonchalant, he wouldn't be shocked if this was a fucked-up prank, but really Pickles had no reason to prank him. That'd just be fucked up, especially since April Fool's Day had long since passed. 

"Dead."

"Yeh, figured you'd wanna know."

"...Thanks."

There'd probably be a funeral for him. So immediately, without much thought, Seth packed his bags for Mordhaus. He didn't think about it. It made him feel sick. If he just pretended things were fine until he got there, then they would be. 

He sat in the plane in silence. Silence in his mind, silence in his mouth.

He didn't bring much -- after all, he wouldn't be there long. He didn't call a driver or anything, so instead he just walked there. Everyone knew where Mordhaus was. Everyone could tell him what direction it was in. After awhile he could see the big dragon on the horizon, pulling his suitcase behind him through the low fog and humidity. The marshland below Dethklok's HQ became visible as he stepped onto the bridge. Eyes fixed on the big door, he gave it a quiet knock.

Nothing.

He knocked a little louder.

"Gimme a second." From the inside, he heard Pickles' voice. The door opened, big and heavy. "Seth? What're you doin' here?"

"I'm... I'm here for Magnus' funeral."

"Dood." Pickles sighed. "We ain't _givin'_ Magnus a funeral, if we were I would'a told you."

"Are- are you fuckin' serious?"

"Yeh, I ain't gonna do it. Nate'n ain't gonna do it. Skwisgaar, Toki and Murderface ain't gonna do it, so we ain't doin' it."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Seth, are you kiddin' me?" Pickles rose an eyebrow. "He's been one a' the worst people in my life since we fuckin' met."

"What, did he drink your booze or somethin'?"

"You are... so stupid!"

"...c'n I still stay 'ere?"

Pickles groaned, holding the door open.

"Fine. I won't force ya to go back to Australia right now."

"Thanks."

"Guest room's on the third floor."

Seth took his suitcase, pulling it up two flights of stairs, denying help from anyone who came by. After all, he was self-sufficient. Finding the guest room, which was minimally decorated, with just a bed, lamp and wooden drawer. 

It sank in, somehow.

_How could they?_

Magnus was dead -- that was all he knew. He may have had a shaky relationship with Dethklok, sure, but he wasn't malicious. Seth had been in a relationship with him for at least a year, after all, and just because he was rough around the edges didn't mean he was bad. And for one of the only times in his life, somehow, he was fucking enraged with his brother. (His brother, who gave him a job, and a home, and five-million dollars.) His chest tightened.

Bullshit.

No funeral. No interest. No nothing.

He wedged his head beneath a pillow, determined to fall asleep. But time did not pass and sleep did not come. He was dressed so lightly that he was freezing his ass off, and had no motivation to get up and do anything.

As the lights in the halls of Mordhaus began to shut off, Seth put on his slippers, shuffling to their kitchen.

Enormous.

The fridge was full of booze, and so were the cabinets, and even secret compartments in the wall. Ignoring all of the "do not touch" and "property of pickles" signs on the bottles, he carried them to the living room.

DVD shelves. Full of movies. He needed something to take his mind off of the problem. Booze and a horror flick. He filed through the unorganized cases, fingers shaking. 

Ichi the Killer. Men Behind the Sun. Guinea Pig: Flower of Flesh and Blood. Funny Games. 

Salo.

That wouldn't make him feel better.

Which meant, obviously, he'd put it on. After all, Salo was a deep, meaningful movie that causes all viewers to fall into a nihilistic depression. And things couldn't possibly get any worse. He poured some vodka into a cup, taking a long swig as he popped the DVD in.

He laid back on the couch. A dark, dark movie.

Apparently it was a whole lot of fun on set.

His fingers curled around the glass, liquor slipping between his lips. Bitter and gross. His mouth curled in a disgusted grimace. Honestly, he hated alcohol, but he loved being drunk. Normally he'd just take shots, but it wasn't a 'shots' kind of night. Whatever was happening on the screen wasn't registering in his brain -- senseless debauchery, most likely. He'd seen this one... at least twice before. Once to scare himself, and once to traumatize his brother.

Using a film like Salo to do that was just cruel.

At the time it was pretty funny, though.

He grumbled. Magnus owned a copy of this movie. "It's deep," he'd say, "a deep, sociopolitical story. You just gotta watch it in the right light." He was already too tipsy to think. He should've put on something that required less thinking. 

"Hey fuckwad."

Murderface was by the couch, holding a DVD case, Skwisgaar beside him.

"You's shows up and drinks all our booze?"

"...Mmh." 

"Get the fuck offa my couch, we had plansch." 

"Ja. We was gon's to watch Rens and Stimpies."

"Scram, shithead." Seth groaned, louder this time, pouring himself another glass.

"I'm not watching thisch."

"Then go to bed."

"Thisch isch our housche."

"Show some fuck'n sympathy, alright? My boyfriend just died. I wanna drink and watch Salo."

"That'sch scho fucking _schtupid._ " 

"Beat it. Fuck off." He was already feeling a buzz after two glasses. His eyes felt heavy and his belly was on fire. This really wasn't doing much for him, he just felt shittier. The film stopped, suddenly, Murderface popping the disk out and placing it in its home. "I was watchin' that."

"We're watching cartoonsch."

"Put Salo back on."

"No t'anks, dats movies ams too brutals for mes."

"We've been plannin' thisch all day. Go cry about your dead boyfriend schomewhere elsche, asschhole."

No sympathy at all.

-

"How longs you ams goin's to be heres?"

Toki stared at him, sitting on the end of the breakfast table. A table that was only meant to seat five, and thus had him sitting at the tip in a folding chair. He wasn't very hungry, honestly. A mixture between hangover, depression and Salo was not sitting well. He sighed.

"Like... a few days?"

"Olrights..." Toki responded, shoving a spoonful of sugar-free pudding into his mouth.

"Don't sound so excited."

He wanted money. He wanted a nap. His lips curled. "...What happened to 'im?" 

"Huh?"

"What happened to Maggie--" He cleared his throat. "...Magnus."

"He'sch _dead._ "

"Yeah, but- but what happened."

"Uhh..." Nathan grunted. "We found him impaled when we were rescuing Toki."

"Wait-- rescuing him from what?"

"Dood, we're naht talkin' about dis." Toki was already shaking, and Pickles was patting his back. "If yer gonna pull dis shit now, then I'm sendin' yer ass back to Australia."

"...Alright." He leaned down, shoving pancake into his face. He thought-- no, he knew that it would only hurt him more. But he was a being of curiosity, so he'd just ask later. Maybe when being bullied out of watching another horror movie. His stomach was turning as idle conversation continued. _You can't just pretend it didn't happen. Asshole._ For some reason he could imagine his hands around their throats.

He shook it off.

Dumb.

-

Audition. Sweet Movie. Visitor Q. Hostel.

...Excision.

That was a comedy, right?

He turned around with the DVD case, only to find that Murderface had already taken custody of the couch. They locked gazes for a moment, before the bassist returned to flicking through films on demand. 

"Can you please let me use this TV."

"Nah."

"What the fuck made you so vindictive?"

"Me? Vindictive?" Murderface scoffed. "I don't even know what that meansch, scho I doubt it'sch a word."

"It means you're bein' petty for no reason."

"Well then I'm definitely not vindictive."

"Since I've shown up all you do is act like an asshole. I just- I just lost my boyfriend, and you ain't even givin' him a funeral!"

"Who? _Magnusch?_ "

"No shit, Magnus."

"I'd never- I'd never, ever, ever hold a funeral for him! I'll pissch on hisch grave!"

"Don't say that about 'im! He ain't done nothin' but--"

"Don't try and tell me ain't done anythin' wrong! You..." Murderface's voice fell into pathetic whines. "...You're scho schtupid." Seth's arms dropped. They were at a stalemate, and he locked his fingers together.

"Did he do something?"

"When I wasch scheventeen yearsch old!" His fist slammed onto the coffee table, hard enough to make the glasses shake. "I had a boyfriend! And that boyfriend wasch Magnusch Hammerschmith! Age 25!" His hands were shaking. "...I loved 'im."

"You--"

"He told me he wasch the only perschon who'd love me. Becausche I'm fat, and I can't read, and I'm schtupid and..." 

"But--"

"And I believed it, and..." He whimpered. "I had to leave him. Becausche he schtabbed Nathan and got kicked out, and when I wasch drunk he almoscht- he almoscht killed me. And that'sch- that'sch the only perschon I've dated!" His shoulders were hunched. His eyes were teary. "Ain't that schwell? He usched me asch leverage, and I wasch dumb enough to think he actually _liked_ me!"

"Dood. Dood." Seth grabbed Murderface's shoulders. The both of them were shaking.

"...I'm glad he'sch dead."

"He never did anythin' like that to me."

"Well ain't that juscht a bucket a' happinessch! He learned deschenschy _after_ ruining my life!"

"...I'm, uh... sorry?"

"Whatever."

"Sorry."

"You juscht schaid schorry."

"Because I am."

"No you're not."

"...I dunno what to say. We both know 'im so differently."

"Damn schtraight we do."

"...I just wish you could'a had the bias I did."

He had to have matured, to improved. He had to have understood that what he did was wrong, right? Because Magnus wasn't like that. He could be cruel at times, but not intentionally, and he was trying his damnest. He had to have been. It felt wrong. But he didn't know why, he just, just, just didn't know why.

"Yeah."

"...Watch whatever you want."

He needed sleep.


End file.
